Of Human Compassion
by abbywesten
Summary: Tucker has an accident. Archer is there for him. Friendship and brotherhood. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

_I've recently rediscovered Enterprise, and had forgotten how much I love this show. The friendship between Archer and Tucker is my absolute favorite so of course I had to try my hand at writing it. I see this as taking place somewhere before all the darkness with the Xindi. The story is essentially done, so it should go up fairly quickly. You'll notice elements from certain episode plot lines that I used as inspiration, and small specific references to a couple of episodes. All the usual disclaimers apply - I don't own anything, I'm not an expert of any sort, it's all just for fun, yadda yadda. I hope you enjoy. -abby_

* * *

"Engineering to Bridge," The voice wasn't one that Archer was used to hearing over the comm system, but he quickly placed it as belonging to Lieutenant Hess. There was thinly veiled tension in her tone.

"Bridge," the captain acknowledged.

"There's been an...accident," Hess said. "Commander Tucker was taken to sickbay."

At the announcement, the on-duty bridge crew straightened and glanced at each other. They all knew how the captain felt about Tucker.

"What happened?" Archer demanded. He was already on his feet.

"I'm not exactly sure. We had the plasma injectors offline for cleaning and there was some sort of a random power surge," the young engineer quickly explained. She hesitated slightly before continuing. "Commander Tucker was...touching a conduit."

For an instant, Archer stopped breathing. He actually felt his lungs seize in his chest. _Trip._ With an effort, he managed to pull himself together in front of the crew. "I'm on my way to sickbay," he said in clipped tones, ending the communication with Hess and striding toward the lift. "You have the bridge," he tossed at T'Pol as the door slid shut.

It was all Jon could do to keep from running through the corridors as fear churned deep inside him. _How many close calls can one person have before their luck finally runs out?_ A variety of possible outcomes raced through Jon's head, each more worrisome than the last, but he relaxed slightly as he finally entered sickbay and saw that Phlox appeared unhurried. "How is he?"

"I'm still running tests," the doctor was not surprised to see the captain and merely gestured in the direction of the imaging scanner, which was closed and in operation. "Commander Tucker received what appears to have been a moderately severe plasma shock. I am currently trying to determine the extent of the damage to his heart."

"His heart?" Archer's stomach lurched. There was a long pause as Phlox studied the preliminary scan results.

"Any shock can result in severe trauma to a number of human systems, most often disrupting the electrical signals of the heart. Fortunately, despite intermittent arrhythmia there does not appear to be any significant damage to Commander Tucker's sinoatrial node or any of the cardiac tissue," Phlox explained without looking away from the readouts. "I will want to monitor until his sinus rhythm returns to normal, but it appears that his heart is essentially fine." He continued evaluating the scans. "Thankfully, the burns are also less severe than I had anticipated. His head injury looks like the real issue."

"What?" That icy ball of dread in Archer's gut tightened.

"According to Lieutenant Hess, he was thrown backwards and hit his head against a console." Phlox explained. "He has been unresponsive since it happened."

Just then the scanner beeped, signaling the end of its cycle. The door slid open, and Phlox guided the bioscan bed out of the small tube.

Archer noticed the pinched lines at the corners of his friend's eyes, pain obvious even through unconsciousness. Tucker wheezed slightly, his chest heaving with exertion. The right sleeve of his uniform had been cut away at the elbow, but blue bits of the fabric were melted to the angry red burn that extended up the engineer's forearm. Blisters had already formed at the tips of his swollen index and middle fingers, and the palm of his hand looked particularly raw and agonizing. Jon winced.

Phlox followed the captain's gaze. "Do not worry, Captain. It's not as bad as it looks," he said reassuringly. "I will get his arm cleaned up shortly, and although some physical therapy will be required to regain full dexterity in his hand the burns should heal without permanent damage."

Jon breathed a sigh of relief. "How's his head?"

"That is the part that concerns me," the Denobulan admitted with a sigh. "There is bleeding in the cerebral cortex."

"What does that mean?" Archer's worry spiked, and he could feel the pace of his own heart quicken.

"It is difficult to say. The human brain is a mysterious and often unpredictable place," Phlox replied cautiously. "Unfortunately, we will have to wait until Commander Tucker regains consciousness before I can even begin to evaluate the long-term effects of the injury."

"Is he in danger?" The captain didn't even try to mask his concern.

"Not imminently, no. I can stop the bleed from getting worse, but unfortunately I can't reverse the damage. The sooner he wakes up, the better his chances for a full recovery." Phlox replied evenly.

The physician had always prided himself on being forthright regarding a patient's condition, but the look on Archer's face gave him pause. After a momentary deliberation, he opted to not worry the captain unnecessarily by providing all of the possible what-if scenarios. Instead, Phlox made a decision based on previous experience with this specific human - he gave Archer something useful to do. "Please help me move the commander onto one of the other beds where he'll be more comfortable."

Dutifully Jon assisted in lifting Trip's prone form onto a stretcher, then transferring him onto one of the biobeds along the bulkhead. He helped remove the injured man's boots and cut away what was left of his uniform, and Phlox covered the engineer with a blanket. "What else can I do?"

"Here," Phlox reached for an extra pair of gloves, a small basin and a stack of clean towels. He handed them to the captain along with a bottle of antiseptic solution. "You may start cleaning the burns." At the look of concerned surprise he smiled reassuringly and continued, "I've given the commander a strong analgesic. You won't hurt him, I promise."

Just as Phlox knew he would, Archer put his entire focus into the task, carefully and thoroughly bathing his friend's forearm and loosening the fused pieces of uniform before gently easing them free. He kept up a quiet litany throughout, explaining each action and offering soft reassurances despite the engineer's lack of awareness. From time to time he would stop and place a comforting hand on Tucker's chest.

The words were too hushed for Phlox to hear as he bustled around sickbay, analyzing Tucker's detailed test results and preparing a number of hyposprays. However, the doctor discreetly watched the interaction and noticed how the unconscious man seemed to sense the captain's presence. The commander's breathing eased and erratic heartbeat stabilized minutely even as Archer worked.

Not for the first time when observing these two in particular, Phlox wondered at the human capacity for friendship and compassion.

"Very good, Captain," Phlox praised when the task was done. "Couldn't have done it better myself." He administered antibiotics and applied a protective liquid bandage to the burns then stepped back, satisfied. "Thank you for your assistance. He's resting as comfortably as possible. I will notify you immediately once he regains consciousness."

Archer hesitated. "I'll go update Trip's engineering team and T'Pol, then I'll be back."

The Denobulan knew better than to argue. He simply inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Very well. I will see you shortly."

"Let me know if anything changes in the meantime."

"Of course, Captain."


	2. Chapter 2

Archer dozed fitfully, tossing and turning on the biobed next to his chief engineer's. Phlox had dimmed the lights in sickbay to something more conducive to sleep, not that it mattered. The light level wasn't what kept him from resting.

After a while the captain surrendered to his worry. He sat up in the semi-darkness and watched his best friend closely. _At least he looks peaceful now_ , Jon thought, _and not like he's suffering._ Trip had always been an open book, awake or not, and Jon was haunted by the earlier signs of discomfort that had been so obvious on the younger man's face. Those taut lines of pain had finally smoothed, and if it weren't for the sallow complexion and nasal cannula feeding Trip oxygen - _merely a precaution,_ Phlox had assured - Jon could have assumed he was simply asleep.

Eventually Jon lost track of time. For hours he sat, absently monitoring the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of Trip's chest as he thought back over the years they had known each other. He tried to imagine a life without his friend, without this man who had been his sounding board and confidant for a decade. The idea was entirely too painful, and the captain's vision blurred as tears threatened to fall. _No,_ he thought, taking a deep breath and swiping the dampness from his eyes. _He'll be fine. He has to be._

The alternative was unthinkable.

Suddenly he noticed that Tucker's breathing had changed. Jon stood and leaned forward, placing a gentle hand on the younger man's sternum. "Trip? Trip, can you hear me?" There was no response, but Archer called over his shoulder for the doctor. "Phlox! I think he might be waking up."

The Denobulan emerged from his office and inspected the screen displaying Tucker's vitals. "You are quite correct, Captain. His brain activity has increased. The commander is definitely approaching consciousness."

The two men waited, one patiently and the other less so, as Tucker stirred weakly. At long last, after what seemed an eternity to Archer, blue eyes cracked open in an ashen face. Trip's glassy gaze lazily drifted around the room for a moment before eventually focusing on his captain.

Archer tried for what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "Trip?"

A tired grin of recognition ghosted across the younger man's countenance, and a little bit of the tension in Archer's belly eased. He watched as Trip lifted and rotated his injured right arm, inspecting the limb carefully and flexing the swollen, blistered fingers with a wince.

"You sustained moderate burns along most of your forearm. Severe second degree on your index and middle fingers along with the palm of your hand, but they will heal nicely," Phlox assured his patient. "It may take some time to regain full mobility, but with therapy there should be no permanent damage."

"Mm," Tucker replied softly. His eyes drifted shut.

Phlox frowned. He'd been expecting a far stronger reaction to the idea of physical therapy from the impatient, active young man. "Commander, do you remember what happened?"

When there was no answer, Jon patted his friend gently but insistently on the chest. "Trip. Come on, now."

The engineer's eyes opened again, and he blinked a few times.

"There you go," Archer coaxed. "Do you remember what happened in Engineering?"

Tucker started to speak, but then a puzzled look crossed his pale features. He closed his mouth and after a few seconds, hesitantly opened it once more. Finally he pressed his lips together and nodded.

"You remember?" Phlox said encouragingly.

Another nod.

"Can you tell us, Commander?" The doctor probed firmly, albeit kindly.

There was a long pause. Finally Trip shook his head, staring frantically up at Jon.

Archer could feel the engineer's heart pounding erratically beneath his fingertips. "It's okay. Easy, Trip. Take it easy," the older man soothed before turning his attention to the physician. "What's going on?" Archer suspected that Phlox knew something he wasn't saying.

Phlox sighed. "It appears that the bleeding in Commander Tucker's cerebral cortex has affected his language center," he explained, softening his tone at Archer's distraught expression. "His memories seem intact and he clearly understands us, but is unable to respond verbally. Sometimes injuries like this can cause the brain to get...scrambled, in a way, making it difficult to translate thoughts into actual speech." The doctor paused briefly before addressing Tucker with an understanding smile. "You know what you want to say, don't you, Commander? You just can't quite make it happen."

At Trip's slightly panicked nod, an ice cold pit of fear reappeared in Archer's gut and began to spread, winding its chilly tendrils through his very core. "Is it permanent?" The thought of his gregarious friend's friendly, amiable energy and soft Southern accent silenced forever was almost more than the captain could bear. He moved his hand from Trip's chest to his shoulder, squeezing supportively.

Two pairs of eyes locked on the doctor, blue and hazel, both anxiously awaiting his response.

"I truly don't know," the Denobulan was forced to admit. "Like I said before, Captain, the human brain is a mysterious place. It is entirely probable that as the bleed resolves itself, so will the aphasia." He kept his voice carefully neutral. "I will of course do everything I can to help it along. In the meantime - please rest, Commander. Your body needs sleep to heal." With that, Phlox left the two officers alone to absorb the news.

"We'll figure it out, Trip." Jon gripped his friend's good hand tightly in his own. "I promise. Whatever happens, I _swear_ you're not alone in this."

Stunned and silent, Trip could only nod.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry for the delay! Life got away from me a little, and I couldn't quite get this chapter the way I wanted. Standard disclaimers apply. I hope you enjoy. -abby_

* * *

Archer could hear frustration in the ship physician's tone even before he entered sickbay.

"I understand that you want to leave, Commander. But less than two days ago your body received a severe trauma and you need to be monitored. You are still experiencing occasional arrhythmia, not to mention that you have suffered a traumatic brain injury. I would like for you to stay here at least one more night."

"What's going on?" Jon asked as the doors slid open.

"Commander Tucker is convinced that he is ready to be released," Phlox explained. He had taken up a position opposite his patient, hands raised and palms facing out as though he were trying to soothe a skittish animal.

Trip stood next to the biobed, supporting himself with his left hand splayed flat against the frame. The engineer's feet were bare and planted determinedly, despite the fact that he was clad only in loose gray pajama pants. His burned right arm was pulled into his bare chest with the raw, blistered hand tucked protectively against his sternum. Always-fair features were still a few shades lighter than typical, and dark circles shadowed the blue eyes. Even from across the room Archer could see a faint tremor coursing through the younger man's limbs, and every so often the muscles in his injured arm would seize painfully. A lingering result of the plasma shock, Phlox had explained.

Archer sighed. "Trip, take it easy." He pointedly kept his tone light and conversational. "I know you don't like being out of commission, but Phlox has a point. You were seriously injured, and he just wants to keep an eye on you."

 _I know that, Cap'n, but I can't stay in here another minute. I can't._ Trip did always hate being laid up, the captain was right about that, but there was more to it this time. His head pounded and the muscle spasms were painfully persistent in spite of the doctor's efforts but above all, he could still feel his own heart thrumming irregularly in his chest. It was deeply unsettling and he felt...weak. _Like I'm broken._

The prospect of a silent future was hard enough to contemplate without being trapped in sickbay, with nothing to think about except his situation. Malcolm had dropped off a PADD that was loaded with Trip's favorite movies, which was a nice distraction for a while. But the senior officers, engineering team and various other crew stopped by in an almost endless stream, and the inability to hold a conversation made every visit stressful and awkward. The communication difficulties grated on Trip and despite his social nature, he found himself wishing that all the well-meaning visitors would just leave him alone. _Except the cap'n. He's the only one who seems to know how to talk to me anymore._

Trip wished he could convey his thoughts to Jon, who studied him with a pensive concern. Earlier he'd tried typing a message to the doctor on a computer console, but without the use of his dominant right hand that was frustratingly, painfully slow. Trip had to settle for leveling the captain with a meaningful look.

And Archer unfortunately knew that particular expression all too well. He sighed. "Phlox, is it possible to monitor him remotely? If you'll release him to quarters, I'll personally make sure he rests." Like the doctor he'd prefer for his friend to stay in sickbay, but he'd known Trip for too many years and had learned to pick his battles long ago.

The Denobulan frowned. "Well, it isn't ideal, but I suppose I could fit him with remote monitoring leads."

The commander shot his friend a look of thanks, and turned hopeful eyes to the physician.

Phlox shook his head. Commander Tucker was notoriously one of his most difficult patients, and he'd only recently accepted that sometimes it was better to work with the young human rather than fight his trademark stubborn streak. He tried one more time, knowing it was pointless. "I would still prefer to have you here, where I can keep a close watch on you."

Trip only grinned in response, knowing full well that he had won. Archer chuckled, directing his next words to the engineer. "You need to let Doctor Phlox do whatever is necessary to get you squared away. If he's not satisfied, you're not leaving. Got it?"

 _Got it._ The commander nodded agreeably, and let Jon help ease his weak, trembling frame back onto the bed.

* * *

An hour later, Phlox was forced to admit that he was grudgingly satisfied with the two small, round monitoring leads affixed to Trip's sternum. He was giving instructions whenever the captain returned.

"Ah, Captain. I was just informing our patient that these leads need to stay dry or they could give false readings. I'll be monitoring continuously and if anything seems off, I will come to his quarters immediately." Phlox scrutinized the young man, who was sitting at the end of his biobed. The commander looked tired and drawn, though his cheeks did have slightly more color than before.

Trip was still wearing the pajama pants from earlier, but a short sleeved white tee and his uniform boots had been added to the ensemble. "You ready?" Archer hovered as Tucker slowly shifted off the biobed and got to his shaky feet. It took a minute to get the injured man upright and somewhat steadied and once there, Jon gave his friend an encouraging - but gentle - pat on the back. He was rewarded with a dim version of Trip's usual grin.

Phlox had disappeared without either officer noticing, and suddenly returned pushing a wheelchair. Archer hid a smile as it became clear that the engineer didn't need words to make his feelings known. _Nope. Not happening. I am not riding in that_ , Trip thought, easily directing the sentiment to the physician with a defiant glare.

"Now, Commander," Phlox said coolly. "You agreed to do whatever is necessary to persuade me to discharge you, yes?"

Trip hesitated before nodding sullenly.

"And due to your recent plasma shock and the severity of your head injury, you are unsteady on your feet. Consequently, you really have no business leaving sickbay at all, hmm?" Phlox knew he'd made his point when his patient huffed quietly and glanced at Archer, as if for rescue.

Jon simply shrugged. "Don't look at me," he said cheerfully. "I agree with him."

Trip rolled his eyes, but grudgingly accepted the captain's assistance to sit in the chair.

"You need sleep, Commander," Phlox reminded the engineer. "Please rest."

Tucker nodded, still sulking. He settled into the seat and closed his eyes briefly, right arm cradled protectively against his chest. Jon took up a position behind the chair and squeezed his friend's shoulder. Trip's only response was to sigh deeply and with that, the captain began pushing the wheelchair carefully toward the doors.

Fascinated by the ease of the silent exchange, as he watched Phlox marveled yet again at the close bond between these humans.

* * *

Trip was relieved that they didn't pass anyone in the corridors. He knew that there was no reason to feel ashamed about needing help, but sometimes he found it hard to stow his stubborn pride.

When they arrived at the engineer's quarters, it was immediately obvious that the wheelchair wouldn't fit through the door. Trip reached up and released the lock, then accepted Jon's offered hand to gain his footing. The two men shuffled through the doorway and the captain gently eased Trip down onto the edge of his bed. He sat, still uncomfortable with his continuing need for assistance, as Jon knelt and gently removed his boots before helping him lie down. The older man propped pillows behind his friend's back and draped a blanket over his legs.

Once Trip was settled, Jon perched on the edge of a nearby chair and eyed his friend critically. "How are you really doing?"

Trip cocked his head, vaguely reminding the captain of Porthos. "Sorry," Archer said softly, heart sinking. "Just...let me know if you're in pain."

A slow blink was the only response. Jon sighed, unsure if Trip was being intentionally noncommittal or if he was just exhausted. For the moment, he decided to let it go. "Get some rest."

Tucker stared off into the distance for a couple of moments before his eyes drifted shut, seemingly of their own accord. Once Archer was satisfied that Trip was truly asleep, he turned to the computer console on the desk and pulled up the day's duty roster.


End file.
